


Reflected Flames

by greendoodle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Bodyswap, M/M, Slow Burn, i saw a bunch of bodyswap bokuaka aus and i had to make one for viktuuri, the first chapter is slow but ohh boy will it pick up, theres like a death but its the canon vicchan's so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9535643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greendoodle/pseuds/greendoodle
Summary: With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, Yuuri looked around for a bathroom. There was sure to be a mirror there and that would at least help solve one of the mysteries. Following the only hallway in the what seemed to be apartment complex, he fumbled with the doorknobs until he came face-to-face with Viktor Nikiforov.He screamed.Or, did Viktor scream?Either way, Viktor was screaming back at him and now the poodle was barking worriedly outside the door.or: Yuuri and Viktor have an 'out-of-body" experience after the Grand Prix Final and havoc ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hey, hey!! :D  
> I'm back at it again, but this time for Viktuuri because I'm in too deep for this ship someone save me.
> 
> I spent forever researching the dates for all the competition so it may not be the most accurate, but bear with me~ also my Russian may not be exactly correct..?? I just used Google Translate man, I ain't got any Russian skills.
> 
> The first chapter is very slow (just some background stuff) but don't worry cause the second chapter will be here in the next week or so! ;D (I have a schedule planned out aiite)
> 
> Anyways, enjoy??
> 
> \--  
>  **there's a problem with the endnotes on ao3 rn so im sticking them here until its solved XD**
> 
> I really meant for this chapter to be under 6000 words, I promise TT u TT  
> As always, please let me know if you see any typos or mistakes!  
> You can talk to me at my tumblr @greendoodle and on my twitter @tetsookie! :D
> 
> Translations for lazy peeps:  
> котенок - Kitten  
> где ебать ты?! - Where the (bad word, Yurio) are you?!
> 
> Special thanks to my beta reader for always putting up with all my crap XD *prayer emoji* bless her.  
> Thank you all for reading and all your support! ^^

Birthdays were always warm.

Back home at Hasetsu, Yuuri often spent the entire day with his family and the Nishigoris. It wasn’t anything grand, but he did delight in lighting the small birthday cake up in cute little candles at the end of a quiet, uneventful day. His friends and family would sit around him as he blew out the flames, making one wish or another about katsudon or Vicchan, or his future plans which unsurprisingly involved skating.

It had been long since he had been able to have that kind of a serene evening as he had back home because here in Detroit, his best friend always made his birthday celebrations the largest spectacle for all their rinkmates and acquaintances. Ever since he had first arrived five years ago to train and practice on the ice, Phichit had consistently made it a point to make November 29th the best day of the year. This morning was no different.

“Happy birthday Yuuri,” the darker boy exclaimed as he pat Yuuri soundly on the back once he found his roommate had woken up. “Tonight, we’ll have an extra special celebration to commemorate your entry into the Grand Prix!”

“Th-thanks Phichit…” Yuuri flushed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment at the heartfelt statement. He took a glance at the clock which read 10:43am before giving his friend a pleading glance. “Nothing too crazy though, right?”

Phichit laughed, assuring him that it would be nothing short of crazy before dashing out the door with a quick ‘There’s breakfast on the table! See you at the rink!’

Yuuri spent a few extra minutes lying in bed because his feet were cold and he didn’t want to get up to meet the chilly wooden floors of their dorm building. After grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he curled in deeper into his comforter, wriggling his toes to feel the warmth of the bedsheets. Yuuri lay comfortably and set out to check his messages, his fingers flying across the birthday notifications on his phone. He smiled as the texts came in, taking care to read each and every one even though he didn’t receive very many.

It was a free practice day for him before his flight to Sochi in a couple days for his first ever Grand Prix final. He would be flying in on the third to the hotel specially booked for the rest of the figure skaters in order to get used to the jetlag. The extra time before the competition on the sixth was provided so that they could practice at the rink and also get to know the other skaters. Yuuri’s nerves riled up at the very thought.

When Yuuri first got the news about qualifying, he didn’t know whether to feel excited, nervous, or downright terrified at the prospect of performing in front of thousands of critical strangers. Unfortunately, his friends didn’t let him feel anything other than flustered embarrassment as he had received a lot of congratulatory jabs to his stomach and pats on the back. However, after the hype had settled down, rather than feeling scared, he felt somewhat prideful… hopeful even?

All his life, he had been skating to reach this point—the moment he would be able to compete on the same ice as his one and only idol, Viktor Nikiforov. To think that his years of practice and emulation could lead him to become not only one of Japan’s top figure skating competitors, but also earn him a spot on the same stage as the Russian prodigy. The very idea was unthinkable to him, and yet… he had done it.

Though the fear was still there, Yuuri felt a certain exhilaration at this and put even more work and effort into his programs which he wanted to be able to impress said idol. Even if he just got noticed by Viktor at the event, Yuuri came to the conclusion that that alone would be enough to fuel his dreams. And maybe even after the Grand Prix, they could get to know one another more and become regular competitors with mutual respect for each other. Would it be foolish to wish for it?

It had been months since then and the exhilaration had unfortunately mostly died down and there was a big unsettling feeling that rose up and threatened to overtake him instead. The feeling came and went, but it had been especially prevalent in this last week before competitions. Even though he received encouragement from all his rinkmates including Phichit, he couldn’t help his stomach doing double flips every time anyone mentioned the upcoming Grand Prix.

He was proud of the skater he had become, there was no doubt about that, but in the face of unbeatable odds, he felt small and powerless. To Yuuri, there was nobody who fit that title more than Viktor and he wasn’t sure he would be able to maintain his composure up against the man he had idealized his entire life. He knew he could skate well, but was it Nikiforov level? He thought not.

Yuuri burrowed his head into his comforter, finding some relief in the toasty covers. Thinking about Viktor coolly analyzing his debut performance and deciding that Yuuri wasn’t worth anything was something Yuuri did not WANT to think about, but found himself mulling over against his will whenever he had a spare moment. As a skater who only just qualified in his mid-20s, he didn’t have much time left to waste.

This was his one and only chance to make a good first impression.

The thoughts blared in his mind, taking up space and shoving all other rational voices out. He couldn’t blow it. If he did, that was it. He could never face his idol, much less the entire skating community ever again. His whole life would have been a complete and utter failure.

His phone pinged again. A message from Phichit.

‘If you don’t hurry, the rice is going to get cold~! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧’

Silently thanking his friend for the distraction, Yuuri threw his sheets aside and after stretching a bit, he grabbed his glasses off his desk and left his room. Going to the kitchen they shared together, he found a neat bowl of rice next to some katsu wrapped in foil. He smiled at the sight even though it had been years since Phichit had first asked Yuuri how to make his favorite dish.

After grabbing a drink of water, Yuuri sat, and after a quick ‘itadakimasu’, began to eat when his phone pinged once more. He glanced at the screen in between bites and broke into a soft smile to see a message from Minako-sensei and the rest of his friends and family back at Hasetsu.

‘Miss you,’ it read with a selfie of everyone around a low table including Vicchan and a few miscellaneous guests in the background. ‘Always cheering you on! Happy birthday!’  
Looking closely at the picture, Yuuri realized it was Minako-sensei who took the shot as there was her arm outstretched on the side. He took a sip from the cup he brought and leaned in closer to see the image clearer.

His mom and dad seemed as chipper and supportive as always and so did Yuko and the rest of the Nishigoris. His sister had her hands around Vicchan probably in an effort to keep the poodle still for the selfie. Minako-sensei was grinning from ear to ear, looking a little flushed and Yuuri laughed upon looking to see the sake bottles on the brown table. They were all smiling up at him cheerily, sitting on the flowery cushions on the wooden floors, beaming at him with all the happiness they could muster.

Yuuri couldn’t help smiling too as he picked up his chopsticks again to resume eating. Even though he felt a tinge of loneliness there in Detroit without his family and friends to physically support him, he was still happy. I mean, why wouldn’t he be? Wherever he was in the world, he knew that birthdays would always be warm.

\---

Yuuri knew immediately that Phichit had done something.

Of course, he always does something for Yuuri’s birthday, but this time, he did something that was not just bringing cake home to eat just the two of them or surprising Yuuri with merchandise of Viktor.

No, it was nowhere near that casual. It was something much bigger and Yuuri had no clue what it could be, but only felt a certain anxiety grow in his stomach as for the 47th time that day, another rinkmate of his pat him on the back and said, “Can’t wait until practice is over for your birthday!”

“Y-yeah,” Yuuri had replied dumbly, his neck heating up. He gave Phichit another worried look and the Thai skater winked and gave a thumbs up back in response.

It wasn’t like Yuuri didn’t mind the extra company. His rinkmates were nice and he was glad that he was given the opportunity to skate with them. Unfortunately, however, he was not good at making friends and the thought of celebrating with all of them was a little more than nerve-wracking.

He glanced at Phichit again and found the boy practicing his footwork. Sighing, Yuuri made one more round around the rink, practicing a few of his jumps along the way in order to release some excess energy. Whatever it was that Phichit had planned, he trusted his friend enough to not completely ruin his life with whatever it might be. Despite how mischievous his friend could be, he always executed his antics with the best of intentions.

As the sun disappeared over the horizon, coach Celestino got up from his seat on the bench, clapping loud enough for the sound to echo across the rink. “Alright, wrap it up!”

Half of the skaters on the rink sighed in relief, the other half groaned, wanting to practice a little bit more before the day was over. Yuuri was in the latter half, lingering on the ice for a moment longer before Celestino called him out on it. He left the rink reluctantly, already missing the gliding feeling in his feet as he stepped off the ice onto solid ground. Phichit was waiting for him with a wide grin, ushering him into the locker room without a single missed beat.

“Phichit, what—”

“Take off your skates quick! We’re headed to the biggest Japanese restaurant in town for your favorite!”

Yuuri smiled. “K-katsudon?”

“Katsudon!”

Despite Yuuri’s protests on how he already ate some katsudon today, Phichit would not hear it and excitedly waited outside the room as his friend got dressed, humming “Shall We Skate” while scrolling through his phone with its signature hamster case.

The locker room was already empty with Yuuri’s rinkmates already headed towards their destination, the well-known Japanese cuisine restaurant downtown known as ‘Katsu FTW.’ As soon as Yuuri got dressed and was ready to leave, Phichit dragged him off to the celebration.

When they arrived, Phichit immediately said something small under his breath to the waiter before heading towards the backroom where the others were already waiting.  
“Surprise!!!”

Yuuri blinked as party poppers exploded in front of him and he was met with the deafening cheers of his rinkmates as they collectively yelled, “Happy birthday!”

At a loss for words, Yuuri didn’t protest as Phichit ushered him to his seat at the head of the large kotatsu and plopped down next to him to take a selfie of all of them together. Even his coach was here as well, probably supervising, but likely there to support Yuuri too. Yuuri struggled to find the right words to say, but his rinkmates all nodded approvingly and he chose to stay silent. They all ordered their food and when everything settled down, Yuuri shifted over to Phichit.

“You actually booked an entire room for this?”

Phichit grinned. “Yup! After all, it’s a pretty important birthday! The last one you’ll have before you are insanely famous!”

He smirked even wider as he jabbed Yuuri in the ribs. “Maybe you’ll become even more famous than your favorite Viktor!”

Yuuri flushed bright red. “I really don’t think so…”

Phichit didn’t hear it as he stood up with a glass and hit it with a small fork to gather everyone else’s attention. All eyes turned to him and consequently Yuuri as well. Phichit could not be more smiley today as he cleared his throat and stood tall at the head of the table next to his friend.

“Today we celebrate the birthday of a hero,” he began, earning happy murmuring from the rest of the room. “We gather here today to honor the great Yuuri Katsuki who sets out before us to take on the greatest challenge known to skaters… the Grand Prix Final!”

Yuuri’s rinkmates cheered loudly. Yuuri grew beet red and wondered if any other customers could hear them from the front of the establishment.

Phichit laughed along, but when as everyone quieted down, he gestured to Celestino who protruded a long box wrapped up in bright Christmas colors. The present was passed along like a returning soldier all the way to where Yuuri was sitting. Plates were moved, drinks were shifted to the side and all eyes were on the now 23-year-old Japanese boy as he blinked a little helplessly under all the spotlight.

“Open it!” Phichit exclaimed, his camera out and ready.

Yuuri laughed a ‘thanks’ out awkwardly, unsure of how to go about this, but proceeding to take off the red bow and skirting his hands along the places where the tape stuck out in odd angles. The others watched with bated breath, the entire room silent with anticipation.

When he opened the box, he was again stunned into silence. Looking back at him were two gleaming pieces of professional figure skating blades. 

“What,” Yuuri stammered, running his fingers over the length of the blades before looking up at Phichit with wide eyes. “A-aren’t these like two hundred bucks?! Each?!”

“Only the best for my best friend!” Phichit laughed sheepishly, rubbing a finger under his nose. “Of course, I had help too!”

At this, Yuuri’s rinkmates cheered and his coach gave a faint nod in the distance.

Yuuri felt his throat tighten up and his eyes water. He lowered his head and clutched his present box tightly to his chest. Phichit smiled in response and then stood up and began clapping. The others joined along until the room was filled with nothing but enthusiastic woots and hollers.

Yuuri laughed, a bit choked up by the tears welling up in his eyes, a thanks sounding too small in the sea of support. He felt bad he only knew a few of their names, but he was still eternally grateful for their love and encouragement.

In the commotion, someone had brought the cake close to Yuuri, moving his presents off to the side of the room. Now everyone was sitting once more attentively as Phichit lit the candles one by one with the lighter he was keeping somewhere.

Once the candles were lit and the room darkened, and the birthday song sung, everyone turned to Yuuri and Phichit voiced their thoughts with, “Make a wish, Yuuri.”  
Yuuri stopped.

A wish? He didn’t know what he wanted to wish for.

Scratch that, he had a LOT of things he wanted in life. He wanted to become equals with Viktor, he wanted his family’s business to go well, he wanted to skate until his hair turned gray and his breath got short.

His fire on the cake danced, the flames reflected in his eyes. Was there a point in wishing for those things?

He was already blessed enough with a supportive family and amazing friends, and yet, he felt as if there was something he still needed in the depths of his soul. Something more concrete, something that gave his life some kind of meaning or worth…

With a heavy intake of breath, Yuuri’s one wish echoed in his head as he blew out the candles one by one.

\---

It had been a few days since Yuuri arrived at Sochi and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this sick in all his life.

The Grand Prix final this year was to take place on the seventh of December. He had arrived at the location without much difficulty on the third, but being next to professional skaters night and day for the last two days was wearing on him more mentally than it was physically.

There were many confident competitors this year. Excluding his idol, there was also the ever-popular Christophe Giacometti and someone from Canada who he could not remember the name of for the life of him, but who had definitely stood out more than he did. There were plenty of returning skaters as well—ones who exuded the utmost confidence that Yuuri himself lacked. It unnerved him.

Although he was trying not to mind it, it was difficult being in a completely new environment without any of his friends or family to back him up. There was his coach Celestino, but he unfortunately couldn’t make up for the lack of confidence Yuuri felt that only grew day by day as he practiced on the big rink with the other skaters. Skating with the others was nerve-wracking especially because he could not keep his eyes off Viktor whenever the man took to the ice. Yuuri asked if there were someplace else he could practice alone. There wasn’t.

He had coped with it the best he could. He knew a lot of his rinkmates’ hopes and dreams were riding on him. Someone like him who could represent them—someone who came from the same no-name background. And yet he was here failing them before the competition even begun. Yuuri felt his nerves twist and pull in his stomach again.

Practice had ended for the day and he was idling around in the hotel room on his phone, blankly rifling through the encouraging text messages he had received. Although it wasn’t prohibited for skaters to spend time on their own, many were socially obligated to hang out with their fellow competitors both on and off the ice before the final in order to show good sportsmanship.

However, with Yuuri’s first debut, he didn’t feel like going out to meet anyone or do anything in particular. His coach had pleaded with him to at least talk to a few reporters and show them his stuff, but the only thing Yuuri felt he’d be showing would be the contents of his breakfast as his stomach had not stopped churning since he first arrived at the airport. Spins and jumps on the ice were bad enough, but actually TALKING to other people? No thank you.

Yuuri transitioned over to his laptop on the desk next to the window and scrolled through images of comforting food before the Skype window that was open pinged with a ‘Mari wants to video chat.’ He felt sick imagining the encouragement that would come in from his family and opted to set his status to ‘busy’ and continued to browse the internet before turning down the lights and heading off to bed early. As he lay in bed, he pondered whether a little katsudon tomorrow would hurt or not if he were feeling this bad. His head filled with thoughts of the warmth of the rice bowl against his hands, the smell of the meat grilled to perfection, and an enticing bowl of soup to his side.

The next morning, he woke up hungrier than ever and arranged to have some katsudon for breakfast before checking his phone mostly because he dreaded answering to his coach telling him to come down to practice at the rink with the others. Instead, the first message he saw was from Phichit accompanied with lots of sad emojis. Yuuri frowned, but upon selecting the text, felt his stomach drop.

‘Sorry to hear about Vicchan…… (T⌓T) Right before your competition too…”

Heart thudding, he moved over to the laptop to find that Mari-neechan had given up after a single phone call, but her status on Skype now read, ‘Don’t concern yourself with anything else, Yuuri! We believe in you!’

He frantically dialed her number on his phone, opting against a video chat for fear his prediction would hold true, his heart now finding itself in his dry throat, beating loudly, deafening in his chest.

It took him four phone calls before she finally picked up. There was a bit of silence on the other line before she quietly asked, “How’re things Yuuri? You ready?”

“N-neechan,” he breathed out, not realizing he had been holding his breath in the entire time. “What happened?”

His throat tightened around his next words, but he still managed to get them out. “What happened to Vicchan?”

There was an unnatural quiet on the other side before Yuuri heard a choked sob. “I’m sorry Yuuri… I really should have waited to tell you, but he was yours so…”

Yuuri clenched his hands tightly around his phone.

“He ran out and got hit by a car,” she continued in between sniffles. “Nobody could have predicted it… it was… he went peacefully. I contacted your coach’s line in Detroit to tell him, but you were already gone for the competition and your friend ended up receiving the message in the end. I… I hope that was okay. I hope YOU’RE okay…”

Yuuri swallowed thickly.

There was a silence between the two of them until Mari quietly voiced, “Yuuri?”

“I’m… I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, Yuuri? We’re… everyone is here for you. Not just me, bu—”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

Quiet. All Yuuri could hear was the rapid beating of his own heart.

“I… I don’t think you’re okay, Yuuri. It’s fine if you’re feelin—”

“No, I’m okay,” Yuuri urged, his finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button. “Thanks for checking up on me. I’ll do my best. Tell mom and dad hi.”

And with that, he ended the call without another word.

\---

He woke up with a headache.

Throat dry, head spinning, Yuuri looked over to his hotel bedside table to see his phone and his wallet in the same place as they were the night before and yet something felt off.  
He sat up in bed, feeling extremely groggy and nauseous as he checked the date on his phone calendar.

December 12th.

Yuuri groaned and turned over, willing his head to stop throbbing, but to no avail. He let his phone slip from his hands onto the white sheets and burrowed his face into his pillow.

It was over.

He had had a complete flop at the Sochi Grand Prix Final and now here he was, wasted in bed the next day, a complete mess of a person.

He didn’t even remember drinking the other night, but his screaming headache told him otherwise. All he remembered was going to the banquet with Celestino and then immediately leaving afterwards before he was able to die of shame. He must have gotten drunk when he got back to the hotel, finding some kind of solace in the alcohol.

Yuuri groaned, muffling his screams into his pillowcase. To think he actually thought he could stand on the podium next to Viktor Nikiforov much less compete against him with some of the best skaters in the world? No chance.

He felt stupid getting his hopes up only to have failed so miserably in the end.

Turning over on his side, Yuuri stared blankly at his phone, ignoring any missed calls or messages. He didn’t know what to do next. He didn’t know where to go from here. He wasn’t the worst skater, that he was sure of, but he certainly wasn’t anything special. Not like Viktor.

He scratched his head in frustration. He couldn’t even skate next to Viktor let alone talk to him at the banquet the other night. He truly was a failure in all senses of the word.

Yuuri sighed, the impending doom of self-deprecation rising up to engulf him entirely. He was supposed to check out of the hotel today so at the very least he’d do that and then head back to Detroit. He wasn’t sure he would be able to face any of his rinkmates, but he did need to finish college even if he didn’t know what he wanted to do from here on out.

From there, perhaps he could discover something else he liked to do. Like, painting. Or becoming a biologist. Not that he was particularly good at both because he knew nothing about either subject, but he could try… something.

Would he retire as a skater? He was already much older than a lot of the competitors so that would probably be the most logical course of action. And yet, something in the deepest parts of him struggled against that idea in almost a comical, pathetic way.

Yuuri grimaced at his own pitifulness. He got up, grabbed his belongings and began to pack for his trip back with an empty feeling filling up his heart.

\---

It was nearing Christmas.

Yuuri had come back to Detroit and although he initially refused to see anyone for about a week and a half since his return other than Phichit who, probably for the better, was his roommate and was consequently forced to meet with him, Yuuri reluctantly came back to the rink. He didn’t go often, but every now and then whenever he felt particularly lonely after classes or at home.

At first, it was a bit awkward. Knowing that he had practically failed the expectations of everyone there, Yuuri didn’t even want to TALK about the Grand Prix much less hear about it from his rinkmates. However, they had all been really supportive and caring even off the ice. Some gave him words of advice while others pat him on the back and gave him a sad smile. Yuuri didn’t really like those smiles, but accepted them regardless because he didn’t know what else to do. There was nobody to be mad at but himself.

When Christmas finally arrived, Yuuri finally decided to pluck up the courage to call his family and talk with them about his plans, even though he himself didn’t know what he’d be doing exactly. He had been ignoring their concerned texts and messages with short replies of ‘I’m fine’ or ‘I’m busy, I’ll talk to you later.’ Although he felt bad, he felt even worse at the idea of speaking with them about his failures and about the future which now seemed as shaky and uncertain as his college major which coincidentally had little to do with figure skating.

At least, calling them was the plan. Even though his sleeping schedule was messed up due to his recurrent depressive spells, he was still able to get up around noon and he mostly lingered doing miscellaneous tasks the whole day.

Finally, around 3pm, he told Phichit that he would be making a call and headed into his room to start up a Skype video chat.

Although it was early in the morning for his family, they picked up on the second ring. Yuuri blinked in surprise at seeing a myriad of concerned faces pressed up against the screen, looking him up and down.

“Yuuri,” his sister started first. “Yuuri!!”

Yuuri smiled, hearing a hint of sadness in Mari’s voice. “Mari-neechan.”

“Yuu—”

“Yuuri!!” His mom had planted herself in front of the screen, worry etched into her features. “You alright?”

Yuuri smiled softly. He looked down.

“Oh, Yuuri…”

Before she could say anything else, Yuuri shook his head and spoke directly into the mic so everyone in Japan could hear clearly. “I’m… I’m going to finish college.”

“That’s good,” he heard his dad murmur and his mom nodded in agreement. Mari sat more comfortably in the background, looking up at the computer screen from her position.

“I’ll come back home after,” Yuuri said, a bit more confident.

“Please do,” his mom said, with a weak smile.

“When do you finish again?” his dad inquired, chuckling a bit. “I’m just glad to see you’re alive, sport.”

“Th-thanks dad,” Yuuri felt his eyes water. “I… I finish late March.”

“Good,” his dad said.

“We’ll have lots of katsudon when you get back,” his mom chimed in.

“Mm…” Yuuri replied, knowing that if he spoke now, his voice would fail him.

“Mom, dad,” Mari spoke up from the back, her head craned back to look out the window. “I think the delivery man came with some alcohol restocks.”

“Alright,” Yuuri’s dad said, gesturing with his head for his wife to go check. Both her and Mari left the screen. He watched them go and then turned back to the video call. “Take care of yourself, alright, Yuuri?”

Yuuri nodded, thankful for the distraction his sister made. He gave a slight wave and after receiving one back, he ended the call.

Making his way out to the living room, he headed towards the couch where Phichit was texting someone, fingers flying across his keyboard. He gave Yuuri a glance before scooting over to make room for him. Once Phichit finished, he set his phone down and gave Yuuri a sidelong look.

“You… up to watch the skating nationals in Russia? Viktor’s competing.”

Yuuri smiled at Phichit’s attempts to cheer him up. “Right, they started yesterday, huh?”

“Yup,” Phichit grinned. “It’s almost the 26th there, but there should be reruns somewhere on one of these channels.”

“Right,” Yuuri laughed a little before bringing his knees up to his chest and looking towards the television screen. “Okay.”

Phichit eagerly flipped the TV on and flicked through the channels until he found one that had reruns of the Russia figure skating nationals. As always Viktor was in first place, but the competitions lasted from Christmas eve all the way until the 28th so there was always room for someone else to take the lead. Not that Yuuri believed that was possible. If Viktor was competing, he would always be in first place.

Halfway through the reruns, Phichit got up to get the two of them some warm tea and a blanket. Yuuri gratefully accepted his drink, cuddled up on the couch with his best friend, watching his idol skate flawless performances… he probably should have been happy, but instead he felt an indescribable desire to skate again.

He didn’t want it.

Even though he was fine with skating every now and then, and even practiced the routine for Viktor’s free skate in his downtime ever since he lost at the Grand Prix final, he didn’t want to be reminded of his incompetence all the time. He loved skating, and he loved Viktor as someone he looked up to, but right now, he just wanted to be alone.

Yuuri got up from where he was sitting and without responding to any of Phichit’s questions, mumbled, “I’m going to bed,” and went back to his room to curl up in his sheets. He knew he was being selfish. He knew he was being illogical, but he still felt like crap whenever he was reminded of what could have been.

Closing his eyes, he decided he’d watch the reruns more closely the next time he felt better about it, but he wondered if he would ever feel right again.

\---

The next morning, Yuuri woke up with his head feeling worse than he’d ever felt it before. He blinked groggily, feeling the sleep lingering in spite of his attempts to expel it. Some loud music was playing in the distance and a dog was barking excitedly somewhere. He pushed his head into his pillow to drown out the noise when he realized the song was coming from a phone near him.

Confused, he looked up from his bed only to be smothered with kisses from a fairly large poodle that looked strangely like…

“Vicchan?”

Yuuri immediately clutched his own throat. His voice… that wasn’t his voice.

‘Vicchan’ barked once more, tail wagging enthusiastically.

Yuuri slowly looked down at the dog, and then turned to see the rest of the room. He had been sleeping on what looked to be an expensive couch in a living room next to a kitchen that was sparsely decorated.

He felt fear crawling into his heart. He got up abruptly, a bit panicky. Where was he? What was he doing here?

Ignoring the incessant barking to his right and music from the alarm of the phone to his left, he looked down to see his clothes had changed as well. He was wearing a blue t-shirt with black sweats when he went to bed, but now, he was wearing a black-and-white striped long-sleeved shirt with fluffy pajama bottoms. He swallowed thickly. Not his.

Yuuri looked back up only to find long hair obscuring his vision. He stared at the hair in confusion. Had that always been there?

With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, Yuuri looked around for a bathroom. There was sure to be a mirror there and that would at least help solve one of the mysteries. Following the only hallway in the what seemed to be apartment complex, he fumbled with the doorknobs until he came face-to-face with Viktor Nikiforov.

He screamed.

Or, did Viktor scream?

Either way, Viktor was screaming back at him and now the poodle was barking worriedly outside the door.

Yuuri felt his face… or was it Viktor’s face?

Blue eyes blinked back at him, features mired with shock and confusion. Was the mirror broken? He reached forward to touch his reflection. Nope. That was his hand. Or um… Viktor’s hand reaching out.

He leaned forward to touch his cheek. To pinch it. It hurt. It wasn’t a dream.

Yuuri just stared dumbfoundedly at himself as the dog who he now presumed to be Viktor’s and the music which he also presumed to be Viktor’s blared loudly together in the background.

He… was Viktor?

Why was he Viktor? What in the world happened?

He ran his hands across his face, trying to organize his thoughts when the door started shaking. Alarmed, Yuuri opened the door to find Viktor’s poodle whimpering and whining against the doorframe of the bathroom. He leaned down to gently pet him and the dog perked up immediately. Yuuri felt his heart catch in his throat. The poodle reminded him of Vicchan.

“Um,” Yuuri started, racking his brains for the poodle’s name. “You… you go away for now, okay?”

He tried to shoo the poodle away, but the dog merely tilted its head and jumped up onto Yuuri’s legs.

Yuuri sighed in exasperation and let the dog follow him back into the living room where Viktor’s phone was still screaming at him. Upon picking it up, he realized the song that was playing was “Stay Close to Me”, the program that he’d been trying to learn the choreography for. He let it play a little while longer before pressing the alarm button that he presumed to be ‘snooze.’ He didn’t know for sure after all because the entire phone was in Russian.

Feeling as if he had run a marathon, Yuuri slumped down onto the couch bed and rubbed his temples.

So. He was in Viktor Nikiforov’s body.

Did that mean Viktor was in his body as well?

The poodle got up onto the couch with him and buried his head into the crevice of his arm, resulting in Yuuri wrapping his arms around a very needy, large, brown dog.

“That’s right…” Yuuri droned, realization hitting him. “Name’s Makkachin, huh…?”

Yuuri groaned, throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling, his brain hurting more than he wanted it to. At that moment, Viktor’s phone buzzed. Yuuri jumped, a bit startled, but managed to look down at the caller ID.

‘котенок’

Yuuri blinked and then desperately looked around as if there were someone who could help him. Of course, there wasn’t anybody like that given he was in Viktor Nikiforov’s apartment building alone. Hoping he wasn’t making a horrible mistake and vaguely holding on to the wish that this was all some sort of bad dream, he pressed the green ‘receive call’ button.

“VIKTOR!!!”

Yuuri yelped in surprise, almost dropping the phone in response. The caller persisted.

“где ебать ты?!?!” the screaming continued, the voice clearly coming from someone who had just reached puberty.

Yuuri was stunned into silence, as the caller continued yelling at him in Russian. Makkachin had jumped from the loud noise and Yuuri proceeded to pet him in an effort to calm the poodle from the sudden jump scare. Mulling over his options and taking one moment too long, Yuuri licked his dry lips and stammered out a, “Viktor here” in English.

The shouting stopped momentarily. There was a bit of confused noises from the other end. Yuuri shuffled uncomfortably, wondering if he should hang up. He could hear the phone being passed from one person to another.

“Vitya,” an older, gruffer voice spoke this time.

“Y-yes, that’s me.” Yuuri said again in English and immediately facepalmed.

“Vitya, where are you?” The voice responded back in English as well. Yuuri felt his shoulders slump in relief.

“I’m…” Yuuri looked around and then dumbly responded, “Home.”

“You were supposed to be here two hours ago! It’s not like you to miss something like this.”

Yuuri licked his lips again. Viktor had surprisingly dry lips. “What? Where?”

“THE RUSSIAN NATIONALS, VITYA. Are you alright?”

Yuuri’s stomach fell. He glanced at the time on the phone.

2pm.

The competition started around noon.

“Um???” Yuuri stammered, getting up suddenly and looking around for Viktor’s skating gear. “I’m… on… my way??”

“It’s too late, Vitya.” The man on the other line sounded exasperated. “At least show up so you can explain to the reporters what happened.”

Yuuri nodded before realizing that the man could not see him and choked out a rushed, “Yeah.”

The man grunted and then the phone disconnected after a loud yelp that sounded like a teenager protesting in the background. Yuuri glanced at the phone wallpaper which was a picture of Makkachin. He groaned even louder, falling back down on the couch with his head in his hands.

For some reason, today, he was Viktor Nikiforov and apparently, Viktor had just missed the first figure skating competition in his entire career.

And… it was entirely Yuuri’s fault.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He stared at the Japanese skater, tentatively running a hand over his black hair, his brown eyes. He felt his lips, his sides, his legs, moving in sync with the Yuuri in the mirror. He looked at himself in the reflection, uncertain fingers running through his hair._
> 
> _He was in Yuuri Katsuki’s body._
> 
> _And apparently, Yuuri was in his._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys... I'm so weak..... Viktuuri are confirmed canon soulmates...... ;-; hhhh....................
> 
> I come at you with chapter *makes peace sign* dos~!  
> I thought this chapter was going to be short, but it ended up being too fun to write so um. There you go. XD About the same length as chapter 1!! Enjoy~

Waking up, Viktor immediately knew something was off.

To begin, he wasn’t greeted by Makkachin’s loud barks or the sound of the music from his alarm. In fact, it was completely silent in the room and quite dark as well.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, his head spinning. Once he opened them, he was greeted with an unfamiliar room, blinds drawn, bed dogless, door closed firmly.

Viktor blinked, a bit unnerved.

Shakily, he moved to the edge of his bed, eyes taking in his pajamas which were… well, not his, but instead a blue t-shirt with black sweats.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard of things like this happening to celebrities. Celebrities who were so popular they were hunted down by creepy men or women who do unspeakable things to their idols after drugging them. He had always thought his fans was quite tame, but apparently, he was wrong as he was currently in a location he perceived to be very shady dressed in clothes that were not his.

He took a deep breath, but before he could make another move, there was a knock at the door. Viktor jumped and a million thoughts raced through his head.

Was he supposed to be nice to this fan who had kidnapped him against his own will right in the middle of the Russian Nationals? Or was he supposed to yell at them and storm off after getting their name and information to file a restraining order? There was no social guideline for this kind of scenario. He didn’t know what to think as the door swung open and he was blinded by the light from outside.

“Yuuri, are you up yet?” A dark boy with black bangs looked down at him, eyes full of concern. “I know you don’t like being woken up early, but c’mon, it’s way past noon already you have to at least eat something.”

Viktor blinked helplessly as the light streamed in and lit up the dreary room. He didn’t expect the kidnapper to know English much less the name of the little kitten who was in the Youth Junior circuit under him. Actually, he didn’t really expect anything to be honest. He was at a loss for words.

The person in the doorway sighed fondly. “I think that’s the most expression I’ve seen you make in the last few weeks and that’s saying something.”

Viktor continued to gape up at him in confusion. For some reason, the person looked extremely blurry. Realizing there was an awkward silence, Viktor searched his head for something to say.

“You know Yuri?”

The person blinked and then it seemed as if realization dawned on his face. “Ah, you mean that Russian skater who’s going to debut in the senior circuit soon?”

Viktor nodded dumbly.

The person smiled and then walked over to give Viktor a pat on the back. Viktor reflexively jolted at the movement, but the boy didn’t seem to have noticed.

“It’s alright Yuuri, I know you told me he was a bit intimidating, but you’re definitely a better skater than a small, prepubescent 15-year-old, you know?”

Viktor nodded again. Even though they were both speaking in English, he felt as if there was some kind of language barrier.

The boy got up and then pointed towards the door with a smile.

“Well, lunch is on the table so whenever you’re ready,” he begun to walk out. “I’ll wait for you so don’t take too long! Open the curtains so you don’t become more blind!”

“Yeah,” Viktor replied, his eyes following the boy as the door shut behind him. “I’ll… be out.” Under his breath, he added, “I need to make it to skate anyways…”

Wordlessly, Viktor got up and made his way to the window to let some natural light into the room. There were so many things that didn’t make sense or feel right to him and he wanted to figure out what they were. He wondered what time it was, but he figured it didn’t matter as much as the dilemma he was currently facing at the moment.

As soon as there was light streaming through the blinds, he took a much closer look at his surroundings and was surprised to come face to face with a poster of himself. It was hanging next to the bed on the wall, large, shiny, and laminated. In fact, as Viktor looked around there were several posters of him in various sizes ranging from small to large. He would have smiled if it weren’t a bit creepy after he was kidnapped without his knowing.

Viktor took a look out the window to see if there was an easy escape route.

A long drop.

Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

He made his way to the desk next to the window and sat down at the table, looking at a variety of college textbooks in all sorts of subjects. There was beginning chemistry and cooking along with several issues of the figure skating magazine he debuted in frequently. Viktor took one into his hands and flipped through the pages before landing on a picture of himself marked with a sticky note. He squinted to read the writing.

‘Skates: Replace Jacksons for these. Viktor’s program consisted of these elements…’

Viktor blinked. Surprisingly nothing creepy, just some notes about figure skating techniques and equipment. There was some writing in some kind of Asian language he couldn’t make out, but he figured it was only elaborating on the previous scribbles.

He placed the magazine back on the bookshelf and picked up the 2014 college yearbook next to it instead. He needed to find out all he could about his kidnapper after all. Flipping through the pages, he reached a short page about figure skating where…

Viktor stared. It was him.

It was banquet boy.

The Japanese skater was gliding on the ice in the picture, a short description about him written on the side about his history on the rink. His expression was indescribable, a melody and rhythm sung out through the photograph in a way Viktor didn’t think was possible. It was true that Yuuri’s technique wasn’t the best, but there was some kind of innate charm he had that kept the older man captivated. He stared a little while longer before reading something that was signed next to the picture.

‘LOL Yuuri, I remember when the photography club first took this image and you wanted them to take it down, but they only made it larger roflmao. To be honest though, you totally deserve the spotlight for all the hard work that you do. I hope you get to meet the idol of your dreams someday! ;))’

It was signed by a person named Phichit Chulanont and there were messages of a similar caliber underneath it from others.

Viktor felt something wrench in his heart, but he brushed it off, closing the yearbook and putting it back on the bookshelf with a newfound confidence.

It was Yuuri Katsuki.

Was he the kidnapper? Maybe he didn’t even kidnap Viktor, but they had gotten together somehow and went back to Yuuri’s place and he had agreed to stay the night and then… and then, Viktor had woken up in his bed the next day? But then who was that boy who had greeted him?

“Yuuri!”

Viktor heard the muffled call behind the door and decided all would be solved if he simply went out to talk with Yuuri himself. Making sure the contents of the desk looked untouched, he closed the blinds once more and made his way outside.

There was a small dining table with an assortment of side dishes laid out along with two bowls of rice and miso soup. The person who had greeted him earlier was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, rapidly tapping something into his phone. Viktor blinked.

“Where’s Yuuri?”

The boy looked up with a puzzled expression. “What?”

“Yuuri Katsuki?”

“…right here?” the boy gestured in his general direction.

Viktor stared, not understanding. Phichit glanced back at his phone for a second before giving Viktor a look. “Are you okay? No glasses?”

“I’m… I’m fine. Glasses? I just want to know where—”

“If it makes you feel better, Viktor was having a bit of an off-day too.”

Viktor blinked. “Nikiforov?”

“The one and only,” the boy said, grabbing a television remote and flicking through a couple channels before landing on one covering the Russian Nationals. “He missed his free skate.”

Viktor’s heart dropped. “What??”

He looked in the direction of the television, but all he could make out were blurry images from where he stood in the kitchen. He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes to get rid of some of the fuzziness. Didn’t work. He squinted. A little better.

He heard the boy behind him. “Do you want me to get your glasses for you?”

Viktor shook his head, moving forward to plant himself right in front of the television set. He looked at the screen to see himself not… like himself at all. The Viktor on the screen was flustered, panicked, and bad with the media. He seemed to be ignoring the questions thrown at him in Russian opting to speak solely in English. He was an absolute mess, his hair sticking out at odd angles, his hands flailing about and then snapping to his sides like some nervous wreck.

“What time is it right now?” Viktor murmured.

“Now? It’s about 5pm right now on the 26th. Should be around 1am there a day ahead?”

Viktor wondered if he was having a dream. The running headers in Russia read that he had missed his free skate by nearly three hours and had gone home without further comment. The news reporters along with the rest of the skating community were very confused about this sudden change in personality. Yakov had refused to see anybody for explanation because he admitted that he himself wasn’t sure what was wrong. Regardless, there was a possibility that Viktor would be removed from the skating lineup by the next day.

Slumping in front of the television screen, Viktor didn’t notice he was being called until a hand was placed tentatively on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sure he’ll get back into it by tomorrow,” the boy said cheerfully. “But, see, everyone has their off days… even Nikiforov.”

“Where’s… where’s the bathroom?”

The boy immediately became visibly concerned. “Do you want me to walk you there?”

“No, it’s okay, I just…”

Reluctantly, the boy pointed to a door in between the room he had come out of and another room that had hamster posters speckled on its doorframe. Viktor nodded his gratitude and then made his way to the bathroom, his head throbbing.

Once he made it inside, he stood in front of the mirror, his suspicions confirmed as he came face to face with Yuuri Katsuki.

He stared at the Japanese skater, tentatively running a hand over his black hair, his brown eyes. He felt his lips, his sides, his legs, moving in sync with the Yuuri in the mirror. He looked at himself in the reflection, uncertain fingers running through his hair.

He was in Yuuri Katsuki’s body.

And apparently, Yuuri was in his.

Suddenly, everything clicked. Granted, he didn’t exactly know why he was taking Yuuri’s place and vice versa, but it was happening and Viktor waking up to an unfamiliar room full of posters of himself was now a lot less weird.

He heard a knock at the door.

“Yuuri, are you alright? I can call an ambulance if you need it…”

Viktor felt his breath catch in his throat. “N-no, that’s alright.”

He paused for a moment before speaking up once more. “Actually, could you bring me something?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“The yearbook on his—I mean, my desk.”

There was silence from the other side of the door. Viktor wondered if that was too weird of a request.

“Actually, I’ll get it myself if it’s too much troub—”

As soon as he began that sentence, he saw something slide under the door frame. Picking it up with a quick, ‘thank you,’ he flipped through the pages before finding a picture of the boy: Phichit Chulanont.

‘Makes sense,’ Viktor thought, snapping the book shut and turning to the mirror to look at himself once more. Or rather, to look at Yuuri once more.

Not much had changed about the Japanese skater since Viktor last saw him. After the banquet, Viktor had become somewhat obsessed with finding out all he could about the man who had danced the night away with him. Yakov and the others were worried, but as long as it didn’t affect the competitions he had lined up, they allowed him to conduct some research on his own. Viktor had searched for the boy’s social media pages and fansites, but there wasn’t much for him to look at because Yuuri had not put himself out there. Viktor had become enamored with the idea of Yuuri and he often replayed the night of the banquet in his head a million times over. Yuuri still looked the same except he seemed to be lacking the light he had in his eyes from back then.

Viktor wondered if the boy was getting enough to eat.

As if on cue, there was another knock from the other side of the door.

“Yuuri, you alright?”

“Fine, thanks Phichit.”

Viktor washed his… or, rather, Yuuri’s hands and face before leaving the bathroom with the yearbook in hand.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, patting the cover of the yearbook. “I got kind of nostalgic.”

Phichit grinned. “As long as you’re alright. Now c’mon, let’s eat, I’m starving!”

They made their way to the dining table and sat down together. Viktor put down the yearbook and gingerly picked up his chopsticks. He wasn’t a professional at using them, but he had had to learn eating customs for different places all around the world whenever he went skating abroad.

Phichit was back on his phone, shooting periodic glances at Viktor. Strangely, Viktor didn’t mind it. The rice had gotten cold and the soup was a bit lukewarm, but it was somewhat pleasant being able to eat with someone else.

“Phichit?”

Phichit gave his phone a few more taps before diverting his full attention to Viktor. “Yeah?”

“What am I like?”

The boy stared at him in confusion.

“Rather…” Viktor began again. “How would you describe me?”

Phichit hummed, swirling his spoon in the soup. “Putting me on the spot like that, huh?”

“You can take your time if it’s—”

“No, it’s okay,” Phichit replied, a soft smile on his lips. “It’s just… where do I start, you know?”

Viktor swallowed thickly, remembering the night of the banquet. “Yeah.”

“Something like… a river?”

“A river?”

“Yeah,” Phichit continued. “A river… that leaves you breathless in its beauty, the way it flows forever, water sparkling, pure, unstoppable, and powerful.”

“I see.”

Phichit gave him a look. “I was sure you were going to protest, but I’m glad you didn’t.”

Viktor blinked.

“You’re a very kind, soft-hearted person, Yuuri. So unfortunately, that leaves you vulnerable more so than other people.” Phichit mused, taking another spoonful of rice. “You want to make a difference in the world through your skating, but you’re afraid that you’ll end up doing more harm than good.”

“More harm than good?”

“Mm,” Phichit mumbled in agreement. “Like the whole Viktor thing? Honestly, given how talented you are, you should have made it on to the podium, but…”

“…I got nervous?”

Phichit smiled sadly. “You got nervous. Skating next to your idol and all.”

“He doesn’t…” Viktor began before correcting himself. “I don’t think I’m as afraid of Viktor as I seem to be after what happened at the banquet.”

Phichit’s eyes lit up. “Wait, what? What happened at the banquet?”

Viktor stopped immediately. Yuuri must not have told Phichit what he had done at the banquet. He decided to laugh it off.

“Nothing, nothing,” Viktor smiled, waving his hand dismissively. “I just went back to the hotel after a pretty uneventful night, but I did get to talk to him once.”

 _‘And also, hump me on multiple occasions,’_ Viktor mused.

“Hmm…” Phichit eyed Viktor for a second before resuming his train of thought. “Either way, I know you’ve been thinking about quitting for a while, but I want you to know that I totally see you as my skating rival, Yuuri, so you can’t quit until I get there!”

That definitely surprised him. Viktor knew that this Phichit boy was no match for him, but to think that Yuuri had contemplated quitting after his flop at the Grand Prix was shocking. Viktor had hoped that even though it was near impossible to find Yuuri online anywhere, he would still be able to meet up with him by the next Grand Prix. The sunken eyes and dark circles Viktor had seen in the mirror made more sense now.

“Really?” Viktor breathed, a bit shaken by the new information.

Phichit sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… of course? I think I’m just as good as you except I can’t land much quads.”

“You’re nowhere near my level though if you can’t even do those.”

Phichit blinked, looking back at Viktor with a puzzled expression on his face.

_‘Crap, I’m not me right now, I’m Yuuri.’_

“What I meant to say,” Viktor said, giving Phichit a winning smile. “…is yes, please continue to work hard to catch up.”

The boy still looked confused, but he gave a small smile back before resuming his meal. “You bet!”

Viktor went the rest of the meal asking Phichit about how Yuuri was as a person and Phichit had responded in stride, never stopping to question why Viktor made these sudden inquiries. By the time the table was cleared and the dishes were placed in the sink, Viktor had a more concrete idea of who Yuuri was and how poorly the boy thought of himself.

A million thoughts were running through Viktor’s head. First, he needed to contact Yuuri… er, Viktor in Russia. The time gap was definitely an issue, but more than that, the main problem lay in the fact that he had not memorized his own phone number and thus had no means to reach Viktor… er, Yuuri. He scratched his head in frustration. Man, was this confusing.

Phichit excused himself to head to the rink, but Viktor decided to stay back after wishing the Thai boy a good night. He had a lot to think about and although he considered spamming his own fan page in order to get Yuuri’s attention, he assumed that any comment he made would be lost in the sea of support from the rest of the skating community.

It was definitely difficult to come up with solutions. After hours of pacing, Viktor wondered if he should let Yuuri find him rather than put in the effort to look for him himself.  
Before he could begin to think of any other alternatives though, he realized he had a much bigger… and more pressing problem to address at the current moment.

Viktor had to pee.

Or rather, Yuuri’s body had to pee.

Viktor internally winced. He had been ignoring the fact that just like any other person, Yuuri also had normal bodily functions. He didn’t realize he had been holding it in all this time because he was too distracted by the absurdity of the whole situation. Or maybe he was too intrigued to find out more about Yuuri from Phichit. Either way, there was now a bathroom break that was very much needed.

Reluctantly, Viktor made his way to the bathroom, turned on the lights, and shut the door behind him.

He felt himself growing hotter.

Wait, hotter?

He felt his… no, Yuuri’s face in the mirror. It was bright red. He blinked, a little embarrassed. Right—it was the person who he had been crushing on for weeks without end and now he was going to see them naked. But, that didn’t make sense because he had already seen Yuuri without most of his clothes on at the banquet so he wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal.

The Yuuri looking at him through the mirror was flushed. Viktor thought it was actually quite adorable excluding the fact that it was him who was making the Japanese skater look like that. Viktor grimaced at the reflection. He felt conflicted. It wasn’t as if he himself was making Yuuri blush like that, it was just him blushing through Yuuri… if that made any kind of sense.

_Well, if you take off your glasses, you probably can’t see anything anywa—_

Viktor shook his head and took a deep breath, heading towards the toilet with confidence. It would be rude and honestly, rather indecent if he stared. Especially since he would be looking at Yuuri’s…. without permission. That just didn’t sit well with Viktor.

With his right hand, he covered his eyes and with his left, he slowly started to pull down his pants and underwear. He felt hot. It was way too hot in the small bathroom.

 _Yuuri gets bothered too easily,_ Viktor thought, biting his lip to hold back his embarrassment. _Or maybe it’s just me being weird about this whole situation._

And so, he stood in front of the toilet, awkwardly peeing all the while hiding the largest blush behind his hands, his face tilted up to the sky in respect. Was it respect for Yuuri or respect for himself? Either way, Viktor was so embarrassed he felt as if he could die. This felt like the longest pee he had ever taken in his entire life.

After pulling his pants up and washing his hands, relief flooded through his entire body. He was glad to have made it over that hurdle. Viktor made his way back to Yuuri’s room and sprawled out on the bed, leaving the door ajar so light trickled in through the cracks. He was exhausted. Rightly so given he had received quite the culture shock upon his ‘arrival’ here. Viktor wondered if it was worse for Yuuri, being thrown into the middle of the Russian Nationals so suddenly with no knowledge of the programs that Viktor had prepared for the competition.

Taking off the glasses and placing them to his side, he burrowed his face into Yuuri’s pillow, breathing in deeply. Viktor wondered if it was because he was in Yuuri’s body that he couldn’t smell anything in particular. Trying not to think too much on it, he lay more comfortably, arranging his body so that his head was looking out towards the door.

It was quiet.

Living by himself, he had always made it a point to keep things as lively as possible so as not to feel lonely whenever he wasn’t skating. He had gotten a poodle, kept his phone on ringer all the time, and tried to keep up with a few small hobbies here and there.

He breathed out, the in and out of his breath painfully loud in his ears.

Sometimes… sometimes all that wasn’t enough.

The silence now—the silence unnerved him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor realized there was a nightstand next to the bed with Yuuri’s phone and a small flip calendar stand. There were a few dates circled, highlighted, and marked on the stand in a variety of different colors. 

“Oh, Yuuri, what’s this~?”

He reached out for it, sitting up in bed to look closer, his curiosity getting the better of him.

The calendar was set back in November. There were a few dates that were underlined, bolded in large, black marker pens. A few weeks read ‘practice’ and other single days were marked down as test days.

Viktor’s eyes ran down the calendar before stopping at ‘birthday’ on November 29th. He felt his heart wrench a little in his chest. He brushed if off immediately.

“Birthday, huh…”

He figured the day was Yuuri’s birthday and made a mental note. He stared at it a moment longer before flipping over to December.

There was hardly anything written for this month. A large bolded message read ‘Grand Prix final’ running from December 7th to the 11th. It seemed like Yuuri lost interest in jotting down his plans afterwards.

Except there was one little note at the bottom. Viktor squinted to read it.

‘Viktor’s birthday’

He blinked.

The note was written on December 25th.

All his life, his birthdays were always overshadowed by Christmas or Hanukkah. He didn’t have any problem with it because it at least made the day somewhat more exciting when it came around. It wasn’t that he didn’t get any birthday wishes. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The Russian team always made sure to wish him a happy birthday, but otherwise, they left him mostly alone because they knew it was a day for family and loved ones.

Family.

Viktor sort of considered his fans like his family. And although his fans often remembered his birthday and made sure to send him the obligatory congratulations, it was a day he didn’t want to talk about particularly. In fact, he didn’t want to remember it most of the time and welcomed any distraction he could get. This year, he had been fortunate enough to compete on the day. He had drowned his unsettling feelings on the ice and returned every birthday wish with a curt, ‘thank you!’ Afterwards, he had gone home with a small cake in his hands, provided by the ever-kind Mila to eat at home. He thinks she must have known. It had been the first cake he had had in years.

Viktor paused.

Wait.

It was the first cake he had had in years.

He looked up to the walls to find his poster-self smiling back at him. He looked around the room at all the Viktor-centric theme and suddenly, it was as if something clicked in his head.

It was his fault that they had had a body swap.

\---

It had been a long day.

Of course, Viktor had smashed all of his previous records easily in today’s program as well, leaving his other competitors in the dust. The news reporters and commentators had all marveled at his skating excellence, stating that once again, Viktor Nikiforov proved himself to be the king of modern day figure skating.

But no, it wasn’t the results that had tired him out this much, but the fact that today was December 25th, Viktor’s birthday.

The day never held any particular meaning to him. He didn’t have any relatives he cared about sending their wishes and although he was a sociable person, he did not have many who he considered close friends. Thus, was the life of a celebrity, he supposed.

After the skate and a few words to several reporters, he made his way out to town and bought something for Makkachin before heading back home. Viktor didn’t want to meet anyone, and although he returned birthday wishes from his fans with a winning smile, it felt more hollow than ever. He just wanted to get home to be with the only other ‘person’ who mattered in his life. With a hop to his step, he carried his skating equipment and the grocery bag from PetMart in one hand and the bakery box he had gotten from Mila in the other.

As he unlocked the door to his apartment complex, Viktor heard frantic scratching from the other side and he couldn’t help but smile. The moment the door opened, he was almost knocked over by a very energetic, large brown poodle.

“Makkachin, I’m home!”

Makkachin barked enthusiastically, prancing around Viktor’s legs. Viktor couldn’t help but laugh as he dropped his belongings on the wooden floor in order to take off his coat. He made sure to place the box he had gotten from Mila on top of the pile.

“I brought you something!”

Grabbing the bag and the box, he made his way to the kitchen counter where he set both gently on the marble surface. Turning back down to his dog, he smiled, right hand rummaging around in the plastic bag for the item he had bought.

Makkachin immediately bolted up, taking it from his hands.

“Hey!” Viktor protested, refusing to let go of the what was now a very slobbery, large treat. “You have to wait for it just like every other good dog.”

Makkachin blinked up at him, teeth still enclosed around the biscuit. The poodle obviously did not have any intention of letting go anytime soon.

Viktor gave a small smile before kneeling down so that Makkachin would be able to stand on four legs instead of two. Letting go of the biscuit, Viktor ran his left hand through the poodle’s curly, brown hair and let himself embrace the dog as it chewed happily on the treat.

“…you’re a very good dog.”

Makkachin whimpered in response and Viktor let out a breathy sigh. He was glad there was at least _someone_ who needed him.

Getting up, Viktor walked over to the sink and washed his hands before sitting himself on a stool at the kitchen counter in front of the box. It looked as if it were from a fancy bakery of some sort, with golden letters etched around the sides and its pink exterior all wrapped up in a silvery bow. He looked down to see where Makkachin was. The poodle was still next to the counter, gnawing lazily on the biscuit and looking up at him. Viktor smiled back.

Turning back to the box, he slowly unraveled the ribbon and placed it off to the side before peering into the box to see what was inside.

It was a cheesecake.

The cake was fairly average-looking except for a little stick that was erected in the center with a message that read ‘Happy birthday’ in colorful letters. It was decently sized accompanied with several plastic forks, striped candles, and a knife. Viktor lay his head on the table.

“I can’t finish an entire cake by myself, Mila…”

Makkachin whimpered once more and Viktor let an arm fall so that the poodle could lick it.

Honestly, he should be grateful he even got a cake at all, but he probably would have preferred a birthday without one. It was a bit intimidating having this sit in his kitchen, all the slices that he couldn’t finish on his own looking back up at him. It was just further physical proof of the lonely life he led. He wished he had stayed back with the Russian team so they could all share it together, but it was competition season and they probably assumed Viktor had family to go back to.

Well, technically he did. He looked down at Makkachin. The poodle paused gnawing and tilted its head.

Viktor groaned, looking back at the cake and eyeing the candles. An idea made its way into his head. He grimaced a little. He... supposed it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate it on his own?

He looked around for a box of matches before finding one in his cupboard of other miscellaneous items. Taking them and seating himself back down at the counter, he began to light the first candle before he realized he should have put the candles on the cake first.

“Crap,” he murmured, feeling the sting of the flames on his fingers from the match that was quickly disintegrating. Swiftly, he blew it out and then proceeded to stick the candles into the cake, one by one. “Shows how often I do this, huh.”

As soon as the candles were placed and the tips ignited, Viktor sat back in the stool, a little unsure of what to do next. He heard Makkachin bark behind him and looked to see the poodle staring in awe at the dancing flames. He felt a soft smile grow on his lips.

“Well, it was at least worth it to see you happy.”

Viktor sat there a moment longer in contemplation before hoisting his dog up onto the stool next to his so that Makkachin was closer to the cake.

“Kinda feels like we’re celebrating your birthday,” Viktor chuckled, watching the little brown tail wag furiously. “Guess that makes it a little nicer.”

He took a deep breath. “Should I sing the song to myself?”

Makkachin didn’t respond, his gaze fixated solely on the cake. Viktor smiled sadly.

“Happy birthday to me… happy birthday to me…”

Something hitched in his throat. He stopped and wrapped his arms around Makkachin. “…and to all a good cheer, or something like that.”

He felt Makkachin lick his face. Viktor shook his head. He hated getting emotional, he hated feeling bad, he hated it, he hated… He burrowed his face into the curly brown fur at his side.

He stayed there for a moment too long, and he wondered whether there was any wax on the cake yet. Viktor could feel the steady rhythm of Makkachin’s racing heart, he felt warmth in the dog’s presence, he felt wanted… needed. He felt home.

Sure, he was an idol to millions of fans around the world, but what did they know of him? Did they know he liked Kvas over Vodka, or liked finding funky looking rocks to run his fingers over as he took walks on the beach? Did they know he liked to button up his coats lopsidedly or comb his hair exactly seven times in the mornings and seven times before going to bed? Did they know he sometimes had nightmares that kept him up all night and he still went out to skate the next day? Did they know? Did they?

No. They didn’t. And, frankly, he didn’t want them to.

That stuff was private. But, even so, he still wanted to mean something more to someone. More than his skating, more than his fame and popularity as one of the world’s top bachelors. He wondered whether his only purpose in life was to be a role model for figure skaters to look up to. Then after, when he was forced to retire, everyone would forget him and his legacy would die along with his soul.

Looking back at the candles, he made a silent decision to himself. Although he was important to Makkachin and to all skating fans in the world, it was still lonely. He was grateful for everyone’s presence in his life, but he knew he wanted something more.

Something more personal.

With one hand running through Makkachin’s fur, and another on his knee, Viktor leaned forward and took a deep breath before blowing in the direction of the flames.

 _‘I want to mean something to someone…’_ he began.

All the candles went out.

\---

Viktor realized he had fallen asleep in Yuuri’s bed when the first rays of light of the next dawn hit him square in the face. He blinked, a bit confused as to where he was, but immediately settled after it hit him.

He was still in Yuuri’s body.

He looked around. It seemed like Phichit had closed the door for him when he got back from skating at the rink. Viktor had to see what that rink was like sometime since he wasn’t sure how long he would be stuck like this.

He had figured that he had been forced to body swap with Yuuri in order to help the boy with something and make some kind of long, meaningful impact on his life.

Given that Yuuri had gotten depressed after the Grand Prix final and had even contemplated quitting was definitely worrying. In fact, that was probably the issue that he had to address. Somehow some kind of celestial power above had decided that Viktor would be the best person for the job. But what exactly could Viktor do without the boy there? There were no words of consolation he could offer him when they weren’t even in close proximity of one another.

Viktor decided that nothing would change if he sat around lost in his own thoughts. He took a quick look at Yuuri’s phone which was off on the nightstand and turned it on to check the time.

‘6:04am.’

He scratched his head. He wondered if jet lag was a thing when people switched bodies too. His internal clock was definitely off.

Getting up to open the blinds a little wider, Viktor took a look around the room and found himself nodding confidently. Surely, there was something here that could help him make a difference in Yuuri’s life. He just had to find it.

After putting on Yuuri’s glasses, he quickly set about to rummaging through the drawers, making sure to not miss a single detail lest his efforts go to waste. The Japanese skater probably would not have minded—after all, he had laid himself quite bare at the banquet early that month.

Surprisingly—or maybe unsurprisingly given what Viktor had discovered about Yuuri from the night before—there wasn’t much to look through. The boy was quite a minimalist when it came to personal possessions and anything Viktor did find wasn’t worth mentioning.

He slumped against the wall and the poster of himself, a bit discouraged. Looking around less enthusiastically, he realized there was a small closet he did not peruse yet. He moved to push the sliding door open and stood in front of the coat hangers, a bit at a loss for words.

For a professional skater, Yuuri did not have much clothes. He only had a few casual-t’s and a couple sweaters and jackets hanging on the rack. There was a tacky, probably supposedly professional black suit complete with a blue tie on the far left. Viktor made a face. Maybe his actual goal was to burn all of Yuuri’s clothes because these clothes’ existence alone was a crime. That would fulfill his ‘doing something meaningful for someone’ quota, right?

Grabbing the suit from the closet, he ripped the blue tie off of it and lay both on top of Yuuri’s bed. He looked back and forth from the closet to the bed, weighing his options.

There was a lot he wanted to do.

He wanted to get in contact with his body in Russia, he wanted to go visit the skating rink that Phichit had gone to the other night, and he wanted to delve more into why Yuuri wanted to quit skating and had gotten so depressed after coming in at sixth place. Sixth place wasn’t first, but he had still qualified for the Grand Prix, didn’t he?

He gave the clothes in the closet one final look, and nearly whined like Makkachin.

“Alright,” Viktor said, a grin growing on his face as he reached a decision. “Time to take Yuuri Katsuki on a shopping spree!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all your support! o: This fic got the most hits out of any others I wrote in the shortest amount of time, it was i n s a n e!! Feedback is always appreciated, haha~! ^^
> 
> Comment from my beta reader: _"I love how victor doesn't understand what it means to not have 20/20 vision"_
> 
> February is pretty busy for me so the next update will be on the 28th or so~ see you all soon~!


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